


White Copper

by UrsulaKohl



Category: Alpennia Series - Heather Rose Jones
Genre: Alchemy, Authentic undergarments (or lack thereof), Established Relationship, F/F, Tricks learned from opera singers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 12:54:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17060159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UrsulaKohl/pseuds/UrsulaKohl
Summary: In the alchemists' lore, the element of copper corresponds to Venus. Antuniet and Jeanne are studying the properties of a more complex alloy.





	White Copper

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GlassesOfJustice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlassesOfJustice/gifts).



There was a Christmas market in the Plaiz. The stalls were hung with lanterns, some made of glass, others of tin pierced with patterns of stars. Antuniet had been thinking about tin all day. It was linked to Jupiter, and thus to successful rule. Its silvery-gray color was similar in quality to the white copper whose double nature she had been analyzing, though the tin was not as bright. The coincidence made the lantern stars seem like a good-luck charm. She was almost tempted to buy a lantern for herself, though she wasn't sure where she would hang it. She bought bread twisted into a ring and coated in poppy seeds instead, and ate it hungrily.

Her truest and most incomprehensible good fortune was the ability to believe that she had one. There had been a time, not so long ago, when Antuniet hadn't believed in any real future, let alone a happy one. The difference, of course, was Jeanne. It was strange to slip back onto the palace grounds and ask a guard to call a carriage, but stranger yet to know she was returning to a house where people would be glad to see her. Even Tomric and the other servants approved of her. 

Indeed, when Antuniet's carriage arrived at the house and Tomric answered the door, he was smiling. "Maisetra, there has been a delivery for you, a large envelope."

Those would be the plans Antuniet had been waiting for, the molds her alloy would fill. She hastened upstairs to change out of her work clothes, eager to take a look.

* * *

  
Jeanne found Antuniet sitting at a table in the upstairs parlor. A shawl Jeanne had chosen for her fell over her shoulders in soft folds. It was made of deep red wool, with a pattern of slanted teardrops running along the edge. The color set off the glossiness and shine of Antuniet's rich, dark hair.

Antuniet had spread three wide sheets of paper before her, each with a large drawing. The first showed two figures, a man and a woman, draped in the clothes of ancient Greece or Rome. The man's staff had a snake twisted around it. Another snake was wrapped around the woman's waist. She balanced its head in her hands like a gift. The second picture was overlapping profiles of Efriturik and Aukustin, the princely cousins. Efriturik was crowned with a laurel wreath, the symbol of victory and knowledge. The final drawing repeated the previous two images, setting each inside a circle and placing them next to each other.

"Is it a commemoration?" Jeanne asked. "Some sort of medal?" A coin would only have the face of the official head of state.

"A medal, yes. To honor the construction of the new building, for the Faculty of Medicine." Antuniet's words were matter-of-fact, but she turned as she spoke to look at Jeanne, and as she turned she smiled. 

Jeanne was astonished all over again that Antuniet was here. That she was still here, constant, in a way no pieces of Jeanne's former life had lasted. Jeanne wanted to embrace her, undress her, hold her close—and why shouldn't she? Here, in this room? The fire was warm, and her servants were discreet.

"Why don't you stand by the fireplace, and tell me all about it?" Jeanne said.

Antuniet laid her shawl over the chair and moved closer to the hearth. She explained her project to make a new alloy, combining tin with white copper mined from the mountains northwest of Prague to make a bright, silvery bronze. The white copper was made of two separate elements, blending the properties of Venus and Mercury, while tin represented Jupiter and the princes' royal power.

While Antuniet talked, Jeanne pulled the pins from her hair. The braid untwisted, hanging past Antuniet's waist. Jeanne ran her fingers through it, starting from the bottom, disentangling the strands. "The medal design shows them as patrons of medicine?" she asked.

"It should, yes. But it's unbalanced. Or too balanced, perhaps—Asclepius and Hygieia on one side, the two princes on the other, when there ought to be more unity, some grand symbol of medicine as a whole." 

As Jeanne finished undoing the braid, Antuniet leaned her head back, resting it against Jeanne's hands for a moment. "Do you know the artist?" Jeanne asked. She pulled Antuniet's hair to the side and lightly kissed the back of her neck. 

"Mmmm. I've met him. He's a Frenchman, Claude Vizet. Filled with all sorts of grand ideas. He seems very young."

Designing the medals would be a more important project for Vizet than it was for Antuniet. She already had a role to fill for the court, and her core expertise was in designing jewels, not creating alloys. The sculptor, on the other hand, needed to establish himself. The problem was how to persuade him to choose an image whose symbolism would enhance the power of Antuniet's alloy without making him impatient or resentful. Jeanne worked on unfastening buttons while she pondered. Antuniet was wearing a plain, everyday dress in a dark brown. She had changed out of the clothes she wore when refining metals, but this wasn't a dress for company. Nevertheless, there were rather a lot of buttons down her back, all covered in the same dark fabric. "I would like to meet Monsieur Vizet," Jeanne said aloud. "Perhaps a tour of the new hall is in order."

"It's hardly the season to be touring building sites?"

"It would be an adventure!" Jeanne said, laughing. "For a bright, snowy morning, though, not a night like this." Having reached the last button, she circled around to face Antuniet, her own back to the fire, and drew her lover's face down for a long, slow kiss. As the kiss ended, Jeanne slid her fingers along Antuniet's cheekbone, down her neck, and under the collar of her dress, loosening it. 

Antuniet made a thoughtful noise, a sort of wondering hum, and stepped back for a moment. She pulled at the cuffs of her sleeves. Jeanne watched her push the bodice off, revealing the fine linen of her chemise and the tops of her stays. Antuniet stepped out of the dress and folded it carefully, laying it over the shawl. She took off her black slippers next. She wiggled her stockinged toes against the carpet and smiled a sideways smile.

Jeanne kissed Antuniet again, mouth open, running her hands down Antuniet's back. The fabric of Antuniet's stays was a little rough, but below her waist, only the light linen shift lay between Jeanne's hands and Antuniet's skin. Her breath caught in a small gasp or shiver, and she embraced Jeanne in turn, pulling her tight. They pressed against each other as if they were layers in one of Antuniet's jewels, as if pressure alone could make them into some new substance. They were kissing faster and faster, tasting each other's lips and tongues.

After a while, Jeanne turned sideways, catching Antuniet's hand and pulling her toward the chaise longue. The chair was upholstered in green striped silk, and as Antuniet lay back upon it, her rumpled shift looked like a flower, an impossibly early spring. Jeanne leaned over Antuniet, kissing her face and neck. She rested her hand between Antuniet's legs, running her fingers through the curling hair there. Antuniet's breath quickened, and she pushed against Jeanne's hand. Jeanne dipped a finger inside her, feeling the wetness, drawing it up to rub against the nub of Antuniet's clitoris. 

Antuniet said, very softly, "Oh." It was a miracle to Jeanne, the way she always seemed surprised and glad. Jeanne's own face felt flushed, her silk dress too warm. She kept rubbing, waiting. When Antuniet finally whispered, "Please," Jeanne pushed a finger into Antuniet, feeling her body tighten around her. She drew back for a long, slow moment, then inserted a second finger. Antuniet clutched at her shoulder, taut in every muscle, and then suddenly relaxed with a long, voiced sigh. She was smiling, that open, wide-mouthed grin that almost nobody but Jeanne ever saw. Jeanne knelt on the carpet beside her, skirts rustling, and laid her head on Antuniet's breast.

They rested that way until Antuniet said, "I'll be cold if I stay like this. Sit beside me?" They held hands a moment, shoulders touching, staring into the fire. Then Antuniet stood. Jeanne assumed she was going to find her dress, or perhaps fetching the shawl, but instead Antuniet pushed her shoulders, laying her down on the chair in turn. Jeanne's taffeta skirt rustled as Antuniet pushed it up around her waist. Antuniet set a knee between Jeanne's legs and bent over, kissing her brow, nibbling at her ears. Jeanne felt enclosed, encircled: her parlor was an entire world, Antuniet the only person who mattered. She rubbed against Antuniet's leg, squeaking a little, wishing for kisses on her breasts. Instead, Antuniet pulled away, kneeling on the carpet in turn. 

Jeanne held her breath, wondering. She felt soft kisses on her thighs, the warmth and steam of Antuniet's breath, and then the shock of Antuniet's tongue pushing, tasting. Jeanne had learned this trick from an opera singer, a laughing, careless woman who acquired one lover and lost another every other week. It was strange to think of serious Antuniet tasting her, to know she acted out of love, not for a game of forfeits or a contest of recklessness. She almost said, "You don't need to do this," but then she lost sentences, lost everything except the warmth of Antuniet's hands and the pressure of brightness. She might have called God's name, not in vain, but out of joy.

* * *

  
Later, after they had dressed and eaten a peaceful supper together, Antuniet ran her fingers through Jeanne's curls. There were a few bright strands, silvery. Jeanne would want to dye them, or pluck them out. Antuniet liked them, though. They shone like her white copper. But then, Jeanne herself had the properties of Venus and Mercury, the passion and the talent for unexpected introductions.

"What are you thinking of?" Jeanne asked.

"This delightful expedition to the Faculty of Medicine," Antuniet answered, very dry. She trusted Jeanne to hear the laugh underneath, and her affection.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Yuletide! Thanks to K. and R., who told me to slow down and add more kissing. Any remaining hastiness is my own responsibility, or possibly Jeanne's.


End file.
